


a little to the left of impartial investigation

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, content warning: extremely lackluster detective skills, like seriously everyone in this fic is just way too romantic to have a braincell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: Jenny's pregnant, and Angel Investigations issurethat her Sunnydale ex Rupert Giles is the dad.(Isn't he?)
Relationships: Angel (BtVS)/Cordelia Chase, Jenny Calendar/Rupert Giles, Winifred "Fred" Burkle/Charles Gunn
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	a little to the left of impartial investigation

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to me! here's my fic for 2020's jenny calendar day over on tumblr, which i pulled together shockingly fast after spending a month being shockingly indecisive.
> 
> to anyone participating in this: thanks so much for making my birthday so so special, especially in a ridiculous time like this! if you made anything for this, please know that it means the world to me.

_i. fred_

About three months into her pregnancy, Jenny picked out a name and very cheerfully refused to tell _anyone_ what it was. “If I tell you,” she said, “you’re going to get _ideas,”_ and left it entirely at that. Cordelia, who had been haranguing Jenny about the baby’s father ever since Jenny announced to the group that she was expecting, grabbed onto this mystery with interest, bought a book of baby names, and would read randomly selected sections aloud just to see if any name elicited a reaction. Angel, whose overprotective-dad skills had kicked into overdrive ever since Connor had almost been kidnapped, was too busy fussing over every single facet of Jenny’s pregnancy/health/pregnancy-related health to really even register that there _was_ a mystery to be solved. Wesley, who was a little bit ridiculous sometimes, was _convinced_ that the baby’s father was some ex-boyfriend of Jenny’s that Fred didn’t know, and was constantly attempting to get in contact with said ex-boyfriend (who wasn’t answering any of his calls). Charles, more patient and logical than the rest of them (and thoroughly exasperated by the collective impatience of his friends), was of the mind that it was Jenny’s business what she named her baby _and_ that they’d likely find out pretty soon anyway.

Fred, who prided herself in being both appropriately sensible and appropriately curious, decided that a more tactful approach would be needed.

“What kind of _ideas_ do you think we’d be getting?” she asked, bumping her shoulder against Jenny’s as she sat down next to her.

Jenny was focused on the book she was reading. “Hmm?”

 _“You_ know,” said Fred. “About the baby.”

Jenny considered, then said, “Fred, what I tell you stays between us, right?”

Fred gamely mimed zipping her lips. “Charles won’t ask questions,” she said, “and _he’s_ the only one I’d consider telling anyway.”

“Yeah, well, you and Gunn are far enough away from the situation that I don’t mind spilling the beans a little,” said Jenny, making a weird little face. “Look, I…” She trailed off, biting her lip and grinning a little in the direction of her stomach. “I’m naming the baby Birdie,” she said. “It’s after a friend of mine.”

 _“Oh!”_ said Fred, delighted. “Jenny, that’s—gosh, that’s _so_ cute! _Birdie Calendar—_ that’s just _darling!”_ She frowned a little. “But I think my question still kinda stands, though. What kind of _ideas_ are we gonna get from a name like that?”

Jenny smiled a little wryly and didn’t say anything else on the subject.

* * *

Fred kept her lips supportively zipped regarding baby Birdie’s planned (and adorable) name for an impressive two weeks before she cracked and told Charles over pancakes. Charles, who was adorably sweet about these kinds of things, bought Jenny a baby blanket printed with lots of little birds, which elicited a touched and slightly tearful grin from Jenny (whose pregnancy hormones were putting her through the _wringer)._ Fred contributed to the gift with a tiny white onesie upon which she’d painstakingly embroidered three tiny little bluebirds—which, unfortunately, caught Cordelia’s eagle eye.

 _“Birds,_ huh?” she said, strolling over almost _too_ casually to lean against the counter. She picked up Charles’s baby blanket, squinting thoughtfully at the tiny robins. “What inspired you guys to go all avian-chic?”

“Oh, uh—” fumbled Fred.

“She’s an expecting mama hen,” said Charles smoothly, smiling at Cordelia and placing a hand on Jenny’s shoulder. Jenny gave Charles that eyeroll/smirk hybrid that meant that she was reluctantly impressed, and from her position behind the counter, Fred caught their sneaky down-low high-five. “Kinda wanted to pay tribute to that.”

“Cluck cluck, motherfuckers,” said Jenny, and went back to the jar of chocolate-covered malt balls that Angel had gotten her from the dollar store. “Cordy, you got that file I put together on the guy we saw lurking outside Caritas? I think I pulled a few resources out of a book Rupert lent me a month or two ago.”

“Wait,” said Cordelia, setting down the baby blanket. “Wait. Rupert as in Rupert _Giles?”_

This name didn’t mean a whole lot to Fred (and judging by Charles’s confused expression, he didn’t seem to know the guy either), but the effect it had on the _rest_ of the office was pretty astounding. Angel, who had been playing on the floor with Connor, shot up so fast that he somehow managed to crack his head on a nearby armchair. Wesley, entering the room with an armful of papers, dropped _all_ of them with a theatrical gasp. _“Jenny,”_ he said. “Since when are you talking to _Rupert Giles?”_

“Did I say that?” said Jenny, going pink around the ears in the way she did when she was seriously embarrassed but determined not to admit it. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“You said you got a book from _Rupert—”_

“There are _plenty_ of Ruperts in the world, Cordy. I could’ve gotten a book from _any_ Rupert—”

“You got a book from Rupert _a month or two ago,”_ said Cordelia. “You sure you didn’t get anything _else_ from him?”

The blush spread to Jenny’s cheeks. “Just get the file,” she said, but she was kind of smiling as she turned her attention to her snacks.

Fred was never one to pry when it was clear someone wasn’t comfortable sharing, and she knew that Jenny was a pretty guarded cookie even when she _did_ feel up to talking. Sitting down on the desk, she nudged Jenny’s legs with her feet, grinning encouragingly at her. “Hey, mama,” she said. “How’s baby treating you today?”

“My kid wants chocolate literally all the time,” said Jenny, looking a little grateful at the change of subject. “I keep on sending Angel on three AM snack runs. He says he thinks it’s cosmic karma on account of him not helping Darla out with her pregnancy.” She grinned back, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Pretty sure he’d rob a bank for me if I said the baby wanted him to do it.”

“I would _not,”_ said Angel indignantly, rubbing his head a little as he handed a file folder to Jenny with his free hand. “This is our guy, right?”

“That’s the one.” Jenny grinned up at him. “So you’re _not_ just a pretty face, huh, Angel?”

Angel blinked a little shyly. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Figure of speech, dumbass,” said Jenny, but there was affection in her teasing. “And anyway, I don’t think _I’m_ the one whose good opinion you’re after.”

Angel probably would’ve blushed if he wasn’t a vampire, Fred thought with amusement, and noted the way he edged a tiny bit away from Cordelia. “What about _you,_ though, Ms. Calendar?” he said, with such a clumsy lack of nonchalance that it was almost comical. “Whose good opinion are _you_ looking for?”

“My kid’s,” said Jenny without missing a beat.

“And not _Rupert’s?”_

“Wow! I did _not_ need to look very hard for that,” said Jenny, eyes on the file folder.

“—what?”

“For _this,_ Angel,” said Jenny, sliding a piece of tattered parchment across the table to Angel. “Looks like I didn’t need Rupert’s book after all, huh? Had this one in the bag all on my own.”

“You know, you don’t _have_ to be all on your own, Jenny,” said Angel awkwardly. “Not with Rupert’s books, and—uh—not with…someone’s…baby, either.”

“Oh my _god,”_ said Cordelia into her hands. “You can’t—Angel, do you even know the _meaning_ of the word _subtle?”_

Jenny looked directly up into Angel’s eyes, said flatly, “Angel. I am literally only talking about books,” and went back to going through the remaining contents of the file. Fred fought the urge to laugh.

* * *

About five months into Jenny’s pregnancy, Fred caught her on the phone. She was lit up like a Christmas tree, glowing in a way that didn’t seem in any way related to her now very prominent baby bump. “Yeah, I—yeah!” she was saying, laughing a little. “Oh my god, you are _such_ a worrier. Angel has me on desk duty _literally all the time._ No way is this kid getting hurt in the line of battle.” A brief moment, then, “Okay, you’re thinking of _pre-_ Connor Hyperion. Angel hired like ten different warlocks to place a thousand and one protective wards around this hotel ever since the kidnapping scare. A few demons have tried to smash windows, but no one’s been able to get in.” She caught sight of Fred, then, and grinned a little, waving in her direction before mouthing _on the phone!_

Fred, who had come back to grab Charles’s jacket, gave Jenny a thumbs-up as she crossed the room to step into Angel’s office.

“Ha, you _should_ ward the Magic Box! That’d _definitely_ help boost sales.” Another laugh. “It’s sweet that you’re asking. You know I’d help if I wasn’t so magically-challenged—” There was a surprised silence. “O-oh. Well—oh, if that’s—I mean, you can always come down _here,_ you know. You don’t have to…I don’t know.” Jenny laughed again, but this time it was fluttery and nervous in a way Fred hadn’t heard from her before. “Pine from afar.” A pause. “I _know_ you’re an old-fashioned boy, but it gets a little old after a while.”

Lingering in Angel’s office, Fred tried to remind herself that eavesdropping was both rude and an invasion of privacy, but her natural curiosity was _really_ winning out. The way Jenny was talking to the guy on the other end of the line sounded a _whole_ lot like the way _Charles_ talked to _her—_ and Charles had made it clear to Fred that he was head over heels in love with her. Was it possible that the father of Jenny’s baby was a little more in the picture than Jenny had let them all believe?

“Yeah. No, I didn’t mean to—yeah.” Jenny still sounded a little shy, but also _happy_ in a new and adorable way. “Obviously, yeah. I—yeah, I found out. It’s a girl.”

 _That_ was a piece of information Fred was very glad she’d stuck around to hear—but unfortunately, her uncontrollable delight was what gave her away. Unable to hold back her happiness, she let out a delighted squeak—and then yelped, hiding her face in Charles’s jacket.

She heard the sound of footsteps, and then Jenny’s soft laugh. “No, it’s okay, Rupert, it’s just Fred. My _god,_ you worry about me! I’m _pregnant,_ not in _immediate danger—”_ Another pause. “Jesus, how many pregnancy books have you been _reading?_ Stop freaking out. I’ve gotta check on my colleague.” A soft exhalation of breath as she listened to— _Rupert,_ Fred realized with a jolt. “Mmhm, good to talk to you too.”

Raising her head, Fred saw that Jenny was hanging up the phone, a lingering smile on her face. _“Rupert?”_ Fred said significantly.

Jenny blushed slightly. “We, uh, reconnected a little while ago. It’s been…” She trailed off, a surprisingly moony look in her eyes.

Fred did her best to bite back an amused grin. “All righty,” she said. “Guess I should leave you to your reminiscing, hmm?”

“Hmm,” said Jenny, leaning against the doorframe with a dreamy smile. Her hand fluttered to rest against her baby bump.

* * *

 _“Rupert?”_ said Charles.

“That’s what _I_ said!” said Fred through a mouthful of pie. (God, did she love this pie.) “Here she is, talkin’ about how her baby daddy isn’t anywhere _near_ the picture—and there she is talkin’ on the _phone_ with her old-school sweetie!”

“Okay, hold on,” said Charles, holding up a hand. “Do we know for _certain_ she and him have a thing going on?”

“She told him that he didn’t need to _pine from afar,”_ said Fred. “And he’s _clearly_ worried enough about her to call and ask about whether she and the baby are safe. That’s not just friendly behavior—”

“Angel would do the same thing,” Charles pointed out.

“Angel lost _his_ baby mama in a traumatic kinda way _and_ almost had his son kidnapped,” Fred countered. “He’s got stakes in the game that have nothing to do with Jenny.”

Charles nodded thoughtfully. “Guess that’s a fair point,” he said. “But Fred—”

“Charles, you don’t have to tell me not to bother Jenny about this,” Fred reassured him, recognizing the apprehension in his eyes. “I know there’s probably a reason she’s not ready to tell us about this one just yet.” She grinned a little, bumping his shoulder. “Kinda wanted to just tell my honey about the hot office gossip, y’know?”

Charles’s face softened. “I can relate to _that,”_ he said. “You’ve got one of those faces, Fred.”

“Oh yeah?” Fred batted her lashes at him. “What kinda face?”

“Kinda face that makes a guy want to tell you _everything,”_ said Charles.

“Like what?”

“Like…” Charles trailed off, smiling softly. “Like I love you,” he said. “Like you’re special and wonderful and goddamn _terrifying_ when you put your mind to it. Like I still don’t know how you manage to put away half an apple pie in less than an hour. Like—”

 _“All_ right,” said Fred, and leaned happily across the table to kiss him. As she was pulling back, something occurred to her. “Oh! Charles—you won’t tell Angel and Cordy about this, will you? I know they know this _Rupert_ guy, and I think maybe Jenny’s keepin’ it on the down-low because—”

“Say no more,” said Charles, holding up a hand with. “I’ve seen the way those two hang around looking for clues about Jenny’s baby daddy. No _way_ would they miss a chance to get their noses all up in her business.”

Fred smiled ruefully. “Knowing Cordelia, I bet she’ll figure it out somehow anyway.”

* * *

_ii. cordelia_

Cordelia had not figured things out.

“Look, can you—can I go back upstairs?” said Angel, who was eyeing the door with the helpless resignation of a trapped puppy. “Connor probably needs me to sing him a lullaby—”

“Connor’s with Jenny right now and she says she wants the practice handling babies. _Sit down,”_ said Cordelia, gesturing to the chair in front of her with the pointer she’d bought at a Costco.

“Cordy—”

_“Sit.”_

Angel sat.

“Now,” said Cordelia, tapping her pointer against the poster board. “Let’s start with what we know. We know that Jenny’s pregnancy just hit the five-month mark, and that her baby’s due four months from now. We know that about five months ago, Jenny drove down to Sunnydale and wouldn’t tell anyone what happened to inspire that visit. We know that Jenny’s keeping her baby’s name a secret from everyone but Gunn and Fred, who continue to not tell us what that baby’s name is _and_ have the audacity to think I don’t know that they know.”

“Cordy, I _really_ don’t think—”

“Save all questions for the end, Angel,” said Cordelia sternly.

Angel, looking adorably confused, nodded.

 _“Anyway,”_ said Cordelia. “We know that Fred and Gunn are the only two people who _don’t_ know Giles personally, and who are the least likely to assume that he’s the baby daddy. We also know that _Jenny_ knows we think Giles is her baby’s dad.” She handed the pointer to Angel, running a hand through her hair. “So why the hell would Jenny be keeping her baby dad’s ID a secret if it’s Giles?”

“I don’t know,” said Angel very decisively.

“Angel, can you _please_ take this seriously and contribute?”

“I _am_ taking this seriously,” said Angel. “I _have_ contributed. Can you please let me leave?”

“If she’s not in a relationship with Giles, maybe she wouldn’t tell us—but she’s been looking really happy _and_ she’s been taking a lot of phone calls in your office, which makes me think that she _has_ started a relationship with someone,” Cordelia posited all in one breath, beginning to pace around the office. “And you and I _both_ know that Jenny swore off relationships after Giles, and she hasn’t done or said anything to make us think that she’s met someone special—”

“Don’t you think she’d want to keep it kinda secret if she had?” Angel pointed out.

Cordelia shook her head. “Not a secret that might be relevant to our work lives,” she said. “If Jenny was in a serious relationship with a guy _and_ having a kid with him, there’s no way she wouldn’t tell us.”

“So maybe she’s _not_ in a serious relationship,” Angel suggested.

“Oh my god, Angel, don’t be _obtuse!”_

“Be honest with me,” said Angel. “Did you just bring me in here so that you could have an audience?”

With a huff, Cordelia sat down on the edge of the desk, winding a lock of hair around her finger and frowning at the ceiling. “It just doesn’t make _sense!”_ she persisted.

“Well, not if the baby’s dad is Giles,” Angel pointed out. “What if it really is just some random guy?”

“Like Jenny would keep _some random guy’s_ baby!” Cordelia countered. “No _way_ it isn’t Giles.” A new thought occurred to her. “You know what? I bet she’s naming the baby after _him_ and _that’s_ why she doesn’t want us to figure it out! Because she _knows_ the name will give it away! Because—”

“That still doesn’t answer your question,” Angel said with a small frown. “Why would Jenny _not_ tell us that she’s having Giles’s baby?”

“I—” Cordelia stopped, her stomach sinking. “Because she knows we’d react…exactly the way we’re reacting right now.”

 _“We’re_ reacting?” said Angel indignantly. _“You’re_ the one who bought the pointer from Costco—”

“And _you_ haven’t left this room even though you’re a _vampire_ and could _easily_ break that locked door,” Cordelia shot back.

“Well—” Angel’s face dropped. “Yeah, okay.”

Cordelia looked a little guiltily down at her knees, feeling suddenly more than a little bit ridiculous. Without looking up, she said with some difficulty, “I just…really want Jenny to be happy, you know? And if she and Giles are having a baby together, I really, _really_ want her to be happy _with Giles.”_

The desk creaked a little, and she felt a cool hand on her shoulder. Gently, Angel said, “Cordelia, not everyone’s definition of happiness is the same as yours. Just because Jenny and Giles are having a baby—”

“No, but Angel, you remember how they were together,” said Cordelia, her voice wobbling. “You know, before—” She swallowed a sob, grateful for the opportunity to stop _that_ sentence before it reached its natural conclusion, and said instead, “They made _sense_ together. Like Fred and Gunn, or Willow and Oz, or—” She didn’t look at Angel. “You and Buffy.”

Angel’s hand stiffened a little on her shoulder. He didn’t say anything.

“It’s _so_ dumb of me to believe in that _kyrumption_ thing Fred is always talking about, but it’s kind of what ended up happening at some point,” said Cordelia with a kind of bitter sadness. “And I believe in it every day when I think about the kind of true love I’ve seen in my life—even if that kind of true love is never gonna happen to _me.”_

Angel still wasn’t saying anything. She wasn’t sure why.

“The guys I love always have the hots for some other girl,” said Cordelia, and realized belatedly that this was a little too much of an admission. She coughed awkwardly. “And anyway—god. This is so off track. We were—we were talking about Jenny, right? Let’s talk about Jenny.”

“Cordelia—”

“Angel, just—don’t, okay?”

A strained silence. Then Angel said, “Okay. If we’re talking about Jenny, let’s talk about how her relationship with Giles is none of our business and they’ve clearly got it under control, right?”

Cordelia let out a relieved breath, leaning into his side. He tensed up a little—she was used to him doing that lately, though she wasn’t sure why it had started—but then he relaxed, carefully tucking his arm around her waist. “I’ve been kinda dumb,” she said. “I just—she means a lot to me, you know? To us. I want her to be able to have _everything_ she’s ever wanted.”

“Well,” said Angel quietly, tugging her a tiny bit closer, “sometimes people don’t want _exactly_ what you think they want.”

* * *

Jenny was pretty much on perpetual desk duty lately, which was actually kind of nice when you were still dealing with the worst possible vision headaches and had to stay behind to take a hell of a lot of ibuprofen: you ended up having someone to rub your back and tell you warm, soothing stories in a really great Mom Voice. Once Cordelia’s head stopped feeling like someone had clonked her with an anvil Looney Tunes style, she did her best to communicate this to Jenny, who got all blushy and pleased and said that she was glad Cordelia thought she had an okay Mom Voice. “After all,” she said, “my daughter’s gonna need a mom who can—” and then she blushed even harder and said, _“Fuck._ I did _not_ mean to tell anyone besides Rupert just yet.” And _then_ she realized what she’d said and hid her face in her hands.

Cordelia, still thinking about the way it had felt to be nestled safely against Angel’s strong frame, reached out to squeeze Jenny’s shoulder. “Hey, um—I’m not gonna ask any more questions, okay?” she said tentatively. “Don’t worry about checking yourself around me. I promise I won’t badger you about Giles anymore.”

Jenny raised her head, looking a mixture of relieved and confused. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Cordelia confirmed. “Ang—uh, _someone_ pointed out to me that I was _totally_ projecting, and that’s not even a little bit fair to you. So.” She winced. She had never been that great at apologizing, and this was no exception. “Sorry, I guess?”

As her blush began to subside, an amused smile flitted across Jenny’s face. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” she said.

 _“God,”_ said Cordelia with a wry laugh. “You are gonna be a _great_ mom, huh?”

“I mean, I have had a _lot_ of practice,” said Jenny. “Were you there for that time Wesley got his hand caught in a bear trap? I honestly don’t know how that man is even _alive_ at this point—”

“Okay, I totally lied, I have _one_ more question,” Cordelia blurted out, unable to stop herself.

Jenny’s grin flickered a little nervously. “I already told you,” she said steadily. “The baby’s dad—”

“A girl?” said Cordelia, and she couldn’t hide her own sappy grin. “A little baby Calendar girl?”

Jenny blinked, and then _beamed,_ an impossibly bright smile that shone with delight. “Yeah,” she said, her voice wobbling a little. “Yeah. My baby girl.”

Cordelia couldn’t help it: she _shrieked._ “Oh my _god!”_ she cried out, throwing her arms around a startled Jenny’s shoulders. “Oh my god oh my god a _girl!_ We _have_ to throw a baby shower, Jenny, I want to turn this _whole office_ pink, we didn’t have time to do one for Connor and it would have been all blue anyway and I want to cover everything in _bows_ and Angel _can’t_ say no if you’re having a _baby girl—”_

“I have definitely made a mistake,” said Jenny.

“You have _not._ Don’t say that.” Cordelia pressed a wet kiss to Jenny’s cheek. “Okay, mama. What do you want for a baby shower present?”

“Can my baby shower present be to not have a baby shower?” said Jenny hopefully.

“Nice try. I’m getting you a billion pink onesies and a crib with a mobile attached to it.”

They were then interrupted by the rest of Angel Investigations, who entered with a slime-covered Angel in the lead. _“Not_ on the carpet, Angel!” said Cordelia with horror, letting go of Jenny to run over to the counter and grab a towel from her stash. Hurrying to meet him before he got too far into the Hyperion, she slung the towel awkwardly around his shoulders, doing her best to pat him down without getting slimed herself. “What even _happened_ to you?”

“Slime demon,” said Fred sympathetically, heading over to sit down next to Jenny. “Angel got most of it. Hi, mom! How’s baby doing?”

“Well enough that you don’t need to baby _me,”_ said Jenny a little snippily, but her entire face softened when Fred hugged her around the shoulders. “I’m glad you guys are okay.”

“Wait,” said Cordelia. _“Most_ of it?”

As if on cue, Wesley rounded the corner, his glasses splotched with the same slime dripping off of Angel’s long coat.

“Ick,” said Cordelia. “We’re gonna need more towels.”

* * *

_iii. gunn_

On Saturday nights pre-Fred, Gunn’s usual scene had either been a cheap bar, a nightclub, or watching late-night TV at his apartment. On Saturday nights post-Fred, Gunn’s usual scene had turned pretty rapidly into watching late-night TV while snuggled up to his girlfriend, or making his girlfriend elaborate dinners, or just having long, heartfelt conversations with his girlfriend. (He would never pretend he wasn’t a sap for Fred. Nothing sexy about a guy hiding his soft side, at least in Gunn’s opinion.)

Absolutely none of those potential activities ever really involved anything this… _pink._ Thankfully, Gunn’s partner in snarky crime was similarly skeptical—even though the whole damn shindig was in _her_ honor. “You know this is your fault, right?” he informed Jenny, bumping her shoulder companionably in a half-baked attempt to take the sting off of his words. “If you hadn’t told Cordy you were having a girl, she wouldn’t have gone so hard with the baby shower.”

“That’s not true and you know it, Gunn,” said Jenny, taking a large swig from her mocktail and glaring a little bit at it as though it was the mocktail’s fault for not being alcoholic. “The only thing that would have changed about this situation would be the color scheme. Cordy parties _hard.”_

“This isn’t a party,” said Gunn, narrowing his eyes at the terrifyingly large stack of pastel pink presents. “This is the church picnic from hell.”

“That’s kind of a paradox there. You realize that, right?”

“Are we sure that this amount of pink is safe and/or reasonable?” said Wesley, squinting warily in the direction of the balloon arrangement as he joined them by the buffet table. “I feel as though I’ll never truly be able to conceptualize any other color again after tonight.”

“God, you’re a drama queen.” Jenny patted his shoulder. “Can I have your plate?”

Wesley blinked, looking down at his tiny plastic plate (containing a cupcake, a few cookies, and a nice-looking macaron). “Jenny, I was just—”

“Not for me,” said Jenny, and pointed to her baby bump.

“…fine,” grumbled Wesley, handing the plate over and skulking over to commiserate with an amused-looking Fred.

“See, _that’s_ an abuse of power,” said Gunn, watching Jenny shove three cookies and the macaron into her mouth simultaneously with no small amount of amusement. “How long you gonna milk the baby thing?”

Jenny held up a finger, swallowed, and said, “Three more months of this, Gunn. Get used to it.”

“Long as you don’t use it on _me—”_

Turning puppy-dog eyes on him, Jenny said, “I’m pregnant and dizzy and pregnant, Charles, can you get me a glass of lemon-infused water with _exactly_ five ice cubes?”

“Ha ha,” said Gunn, and clinked his glass with a snickering Jenny. “You looking forward to being less pregnant in a few months?”

“It’s like a tiny parasite is growing inside me,” said Jenny gravely. “A tiny parasite that I love _very_ much and want to buy clothing for.”

“Didn’t we already go through that with Cordelia?”

“Yeah, well, I checked this pregnancy with magical _and_ non-magical doctors just to be safe.” Jenny’s sardonic expression softened into a much more genuine happiness. “One hundred percent human baby girl.”

“Well, that’s good—”

“Giles!”

Jenny froze. So did Gunn. Slowly, he turned to look at the guy standing in the doorway to the Hyperion—a guy who looked a little like Wesley and a _lot_ out of place. “Oh,” said the guy, grinning a little nervously. “Wesley, you—you didn’t mention—that is, I wasn’t aware there was a party going on—”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Jenny. Shoving her mocktail into Gunn’s hand, she moved forward, striding past the partygoers to take this Giles guy by the arm and tug him into Angel’s office.

Gunn narrowed his eyes at Wesley, who looked unusually pleased with himself. _“Wes,”_ Fred was saying reprovingly. “That was _none_ of your business!”

Jenny had looked pretty damn upset, Gunn thought, and this kind of experience probably wasn’t the most ideal way for the truth about the baby to come out. Moving as subtly as he could through the small cluster of friends and clients, he positioned himself right outside the door to Angel’s office, _just_ out of view. Lucky for him that Jenny hadn’t shut the door.

 _“—so_ sorry, I don’t know _what_ Wesley was thinking—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s _not!_ They’re getting more and more ridiculous about this whole—” Jenny cut herself off. Then, a little softer, _“God,_ it’s good to see you. You’re probably the one non-crazy person in my life right now.”

“They care about you a lot, Jenny, that’s all,” came Giles’s gentle voice.

“Do _not_ come down on their side. That puts you on the shit list.”

A soft laugh. “When am I _not_ on that list with you?”

After a long pause, Jenny said almost furtively, “Honestly? More often than you’d think.”

“…o-oh.”

“Yeah.”

This was starting to sound like business that definitely was not Gunn’s. Out of a mingled respect for Jenny and a deep fear of getting caught out, he moved back towards Wesley, who now looked significantly less smug after five minutes of listening to Fred _and_ Cordelia jointly chew him out. “Show some damn _respect!”_ Fred was saying at the same time Cordelia was snapping, “Just because _you_ think she wants it doesn’t mean she _actually wants it,_ Wesley—”

“Help?” said Wesley to Gunn.

Gunn decided to be magnanimous. “Y’know, I think Angel and Connor are playing under the balloon arch,” he said, talking _just_ a little louder than Fred and Cordelia combined. “Would be a shame if no one got a picture of _that.”_

“Angel’s doing _what?”_ said Cordelia, and immediately dashed away.

Tucking an indignant Fred into his side, Gunn pressed a soothing kiss to her cheek before turning to Wesley. “Wes, don’t call up Jenny’s baby daddy,” he said. “It’s not anyone’s business but hers.”

There was genuine repentance in Wesley’s eyes. “I suppose I _was_ rather overbearing and inconsiderate,” he agreed miserably.

“Aww, don’t be like that!” said Fred immediately; she had an extremely touching habit of immediately softening when people admitted they’d done something wrong. “You tried your hardest, didn’t you, Wes? Even if you didn’t _mean_ to make such a dumb mistake—”

“—yes, thank you, Fred—”

“—you still care about Jenny a whole bunch!” Fred finished. “And I think that that’s _really_ nice.”

Wesley blinked, then smiled. “Well, that’s—yes. I suppose—yes.”

At that point, they were rejoined by Jenny, whose arm was very pointedly tucked into Giles’s. “Everyone, this is Rupert,” she said. “Rupert, this is everyone. If anyone asks him _any_ intrusive questions about my baby, I will fake contractions and absolutely ruin this baby shower. Got it?”

Giles was looking at Jenny with a kind of sappy expression that Gunn had _not_ expected Jenny’s petty threats to elicit.

 _“Well?”_ said Jenny, narrowing her eyes at Wesley.

“Jenny, I _am_ sorry—”

“Good call. Groveling earns you points.”

“Are we being scored?” said Giles mildly. “How many points do _I_ have?”

“Asking about the point system means you lose points,” countered Jenny smoothly.

“The first rule of _Fight Club—”_ mumbled Gunn under his breath, amused.

“Oh, ha ha, smarty.” But Jenny was smirking a little too as she took her mocktail back from Gunn. “Anyway. Rupert, this _is_ a baby shower. Get me anything?”

“Actually,” said Giles, and dug in his pocket, pressing a small box into Jenny’s free hand. At Jenny’s surprised expression, he elaborated, “I _didn’t_ know that this was a baby shower, but—I was driving up here anyway, I thought I’d give this to you.”

“O-oh!” said Jenny, who had gone a little pink. “Okay!” Letting go of Giles, she carefully set down her mocktail and opened the box—and her blush deepened into a darker crimson as a slow smile spread across her face. “This is—did you _make_ this?”

Giles ducked his head with a small smile and didn’t say anything.

Handing Giles back the box, Jenny unfolded the tiny, lovingly knitted sweater, holding it up to better examine it. _“Thank_ you, Rupert,” she said warmly.

“Is a baby _really_ gonna need a sweater in sunny LA?” said Cordelia doubtfully from over Giles’s shoulder. (Giles jumped.) “And you _do_ know the baby’s a _girl,_ right?”

“Green is gender-neutral,” Giles pointed out. “Besides which, ascribing colors to babies based on their gender is a rather ridiculous tradition.”

Jenny was now looking at Giles with a similarly sappy expression.

“Let’s give them some space,” whispered Fred, tugging Gunn over to the table of presents. As soon as they were far enough away, she let out a tiny _shriek,_ throwing her arms around Gunn and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Did you _see them,_ Charles? They were _so cute!_ Who _cares_ if they never tell us they’re raising a baby together—they’re _clearly_ doing _everything_ right! He’s so romantic and sweet and nice and—”

“—yeah, yeah, they’re pretty cute,” Gunn agreed, grinning. “Not as cute as us, though.”

“No one’s as cute as us,” Fred confirmed, twining her arms around Gunn’s neck to pull him in for a happy kiss.

* * *

_iv. angel_

When Angel finally got upstairs, Jenny was in the rocking chair with a dozing Connor in her arms. She grinned a little when she saw him, but didn’t get up: gravity, as she had informed him, was becoming something of a tricky thing for her to work with. “Hey, look who’s here!” she whispered to Connor, who snuffled and gripped the front of her shirt. “It’s your dad! Back from a long day at the office, I bet.”

“Not technically _my_ office,” said Angel, who had spent the last hour throwing chairs around in an attempt to break up a board meeting at Wolfram and Hart. “But the job still got done. How are you feeling?”

“I think he’s doing okay—” Jenny began evasively.

“Jenny.”

Jenny pulled a face. “You know I hate it when you ask me that.”

Rolling his eyes a little, Angel crossed the room to lean down and take Connor from Jenny. Connor whimpered a little, but seemed to recognize his dad’s cooler arms around him, because it didn’t take him too long to relax again. “I ask because I _want to know—”_

“You ask because you think I’m Darla 2.0,” said Jenny. “You _do_ know that the standard labor proceedings don’t generally involve the mom _staking_ herself in an _alley,_ right?”

“You never know,” said Angel.

“No, _you_ never know because you never _listen to what I say,”_ said Jenny, resting her hand on her stomach and fixing Angel with a severe look. “You _do_ remember me telling you that I have had this baby checked out by a thousand doctors, right?”

“Why not make it a thousand and one?”

“Angel—”

“Jenny,” said Angel, “you are _important to me.”_

Jenny’s face softened. She looked a little startled. “Oh?”

“Don’t—” Angel waved a hand. “Don’t act like this is somehow old news. Even if Giles _wasn’t_ the father—”

“Jesus Christ, are we _still_ on that?” muttered Jenny.

“—every single one of us here at Angel Investigations would pitch in and help raise this baby,” said Angel. “Because it’s _yours._ Because we _care_ about you.”

Jenny gave Angel a smile that was half touched and half exasperated. “Okay, you know what?” she said. “We’re seven months in. This is getting ridiculous. Angel, Rupert _isn’t_ the father.”

“Of course he’s not,” said Angel, and did his best to wink casually. (Angelus could pull it off. Angel was pretty sure that he could not.)

“No, Angel, listen—” Jenny’s smile vanished as she stood up in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders. _“Rupert is not the father.”_

“Jenny, you don’t have to go out of your way to—” Angel stopped, taking in her expression. There was no hint of guilt or denial in her eyes. “Wait. Really?”

Jenny dropped her hands with a sigh. _Now_ she looked guilty. “Look, you all kind of jumped on that being the only possible reason I would want to keep a baby and I didn’t know how to talk you out of it,” she said. “Me reuniting with Rupert to raise our kid together is a much more romantic story than…” She trailed off. “Than what actually happened.”

“And what actually happened?” said Angel a little warily.

After a moment, Jenny said, “Remember about seven months ago, right when the Connor stuff was kicking into overdrive? I went out with some guy from the coffee shop as stress release, I got myself knocked up, I decided I wanted to keep it, and he…” She trailed off. “Left town.”

Angel’s stomach dropped. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jenny managed a wobbly smile. “I didn’t—I mean, I barely knew the guy, but it was—I couldn’t believe that he could find out he was going to be a _dad_ and just totally jump ship like that. I was a real adult about it, I said that this was a huge commitment and we could talk about what capacity he wanted to be involved, but he seemed so freaked out by the concept of a baby that he wasn’t even willing to entertain the possibility of ever being in her life.”

 _“Oh,”_ said Angel weakly. Suddenly, all those times they’d tried to wrangle the truth out of Jenny were taking on a whole new meaning. “Jenny—”

But then Jenny’s smile softened into something warm and bright, and she said, “I was…I was pretty fucked up about it. Not because I cared about the guy, I just—I hated the thought of my baby not getting to know her dad because I just happened to get knocked up by the least commitment-friendly guy in the world. And I was really emotional and sad, so I drove down to Sunnydale to talk to the _most_ commitment-friendly guy in the world.”

Angel stared at her. “Wait,” he said. “So that trip to Sunnydale—”

“Yeah,” said Jenny. “I was going to see Rupert.”

* * *

_v. giles_

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ said Giles, decided that this was absolutely something that the children _could not hear,_ and grabbed Jenny’s arm, pushing her hastily into the training room. He caught sight of Buffy’s wide eyes just as he was shutting the door. “Jenny—that is—” He was absolutely _flabbergasted._ “What on—why would you—”

“Okay, you know what?” said Jenny from behind him. “Maybe I shouldn’t have opened with _I’m pregnant_ in front of pretty much all of your kids.”

 _“Yes, perhaps not,”_ said Giles through his teeth, turning to face Jenny—but his mortified frustration dissolved almost immediately when he saw how _miserable_ she looked. Her arms were crossed almost protectively above her stomach, her gaze directed down at her shoes, and she was pressing her lips together as though trying not to cry. “Jenny,” he said, softening without intending to. “Not that I don’t appreciate seeing you again, but why on earth would you come to see _me?”_

Jenny burst into tears.

“Oh, um—” Awkwardly, Giles moved forward, reaching out to clumsily pat her shoulder. There really was no clear protocol for when your pregnant ex-girlfriend showed up with a baby that clearly wasn’t yours and an urgency that would only make sense if the baby _was_ yours. “There, there?”

Jenny laughed wetly, leaning into his side. “You are so _bad_ at this!”

“Well, at least I’m making an _effort,”_ Giles pointed out, giving her a gentle, one-armed hug. “What’s this about?”

Sniffling, Jenny looked up at him with an awkward, sweet, utterly beautiful smile. _(Oh no,_ thought Giles, and did a very bad job of stuffing some extremely unhelpful feelings back into the box he’d put them in when Jenny had left town.) “I—” She rested her cheek against his side for a second, then said, “I slept with a guy, I just found out I’m pregnant, and I. Kind of want to keep the baby.”

“Is that a problem?”

“It is when—” Jenny sniffled again. “When the baby’s dad is some random stranger who doesn’t want _anything_ to do with you _or_ his kid.”

Giles was filled with a boiling rage. This man—this _idiot_ of a man had had _Jenny Calendar_ in his life, and had the _audacity_ to turn down the chance to father _Jenny Calendar’s child?_ Struggling to keep his tone under control, he said, “I don’t understand. Did you _want_ the baby’s father to be in the picture?”

With some difficulty, Jenny shook her head. “He’s a nice guy,” she said. “Or—you know. He _was._ And I know it’s not fair of me to spring this on a guy I’ve known for a little less than a month, especially when it wasn’t something we’d ever discussed—but he wasn’t even willing to _talk_ to me once I told him I was pregnant. He started acting like I was trying to trap him in some kind of loveless marriage for the baby’s sake, and it made me feel—” Her voice caught. _“Really_ shitty. Like somehow this is my fault for wanting a baby and knowing I’m not gonna get a chance again any time soon.”

“No chance?” Giles echoed indignantly. _“No chance?_ Jenny Calendar, don’t you _dare_ act as though any person wouldn’t be—wouldn’t be _lucky_ to raise a child with you.”

Jenny gave him a watery smile. “You offering yourself up?”

“If it comes to that, yes!”

Jenny’s smile froze on her face, her eyes widening. “Wait. Are you serious?”

Embarrassed, Giles looked away. With some difficulty, he said, “I simply—wish to convey—that I don’t think you’re treating _yourself_ fairly. I assume you were simply attempting to express to your paramour that you wanted this baby and it was all right if he didn’t want to be involved, yes?”

Jenny was still looking at him with that stunned warmth in her eyes. “…Yes.”

“And that’s—you didn’t do anything _wrong_ if that’s the case, Jenny,” Giles persisted. “You weren’t attempting to tie him to a commitment—you simply felt that he deserved to know that he _could_ be a part of this process if he wanted to be. You were presenting him with a choice. It wasn’t _your_ fault that he was a complete and utter pillock who decided to misconstrue the situation and treat you like some sort of ticking time bomb.”

Letting out a tearful, shaky breath, Jenny moved forward, wrapping her arms around Giles’s neck and pulling him down into a clumsily tender hug. Giles’s heart _jumped_ as she nestled her head under his chin, cuddling close in a way that made him feel like she’d never really left his arms at all. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I—I really didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that from someone.”

“Of course,” said Giles softly. “Any time you need it.”

There was an impatient hammering on the door. _“GILES!”_ Buffy demanded. “What is going _on_ in there?”

“I really should get going,” said Giles apologetically. “I’m sure—that is, if you’re all right with me telling the children what’s going on?”

“I feel like they’ll probably have a whole bunch of questions if you _don’t,”_ said Jenny with a wry grin. “And it’s not like I’m gonna be keeping it a big secret or anything, you know? It’s pretty much my responsibility to make sure the Hyperion crew knows I can’t be going out to fight demons for a little while.”

“Fair enough.” Realizing that he was still holding her, Giles let go, stepping back to take another look at him. “And—”

“Yeah?”

There were quite a lot of things that Giles had always wanted to say to Jenny. They’d parted on good terms, though it had been a painful and miserable decision to do so; she’d wanted a level of commitment that at the time, he hadn’t been able to promise her. About two days after she’d made the decision to leave Sunnydale, he’d been fired from the Watchers’ Council. Neither of them had been brave enough to ask for what they’d both badly wanted—but Giles was going to do his best to bridge that gap.

“Keep in touch,” said Giles simply.

Jenny blinked, then smiled a little shyly. “I was never sure if you wanted that,” she said.

“I always want that,” said Giles. “You’re a remarkable woman, a-and…” He trailed off, thinking about her settled in his arms at Buffy’s senior prom. “And I will never not want you in my life, Jenny, in whatever capacity you feel comfortable with.”

Jenny looked _extremely_ touched. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “I’ll—I’ll call you, okay? When I get back to LA. I’ll call you.”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone,” said Giles, and meant it.

* * *

_vi. angel (again)_

“We’re not together,” said Jenny, but she was smiling in a way that suggested the possibility wasn’t entirely off the table. “But—he’s been so good to me through this entire thing, you know? He calls me every day to make sure I’m doing okay, and he’s reading all these parenting books and sending me emails about the things he learns, and—I don’t know. He’s been talking about relocating to LA once he’s positive Buffy’s doing a little better, and apparently Buffy kind of likes that idea for him too. She says she wants him to have a life outside being her Watcher.”

Angel found himself smiling a little too. “Sounds like a good story, Jenny,” he said. “Better than you seem to think.”

“Yeah, but—” Jenny’s smile flickered. “Not as amazing as Rupert being this baby’s _actual_ dad.”

“He could be.”

“Angel, did you miss the part of the story where I said—”

“Jenny, my biological dad was an abusive asshat,” said Angel impatiently. “Genetics don’t mean a whole lot when the chips are down. If Giles ends up being in this baby’s life as much as he clearly wants to, and if he ends up putting in the work to make sure your daughter is healthy and happy—he could be her dad. If he wanted to.”

Jenny’s half-smile kind of froze on her face. There was a spark of hopeful contemplation in her eyes as she looked down at her baby bump. “I mean, I don’t _need_ him to do this,” she said absently. “I can super-mom my way through this on my own if I have to—”

“And I think Giles knows that too,” said Angel gently. “Which is why I think you like him so much.” Jenny didn’t say anything, but Angel didn’t miss the way she grinned a little at his words. “Listen, you don’t need me to tell you that Angel Investigations would go to bat for your baby in a heartbeat,” he said, “but maybe you _do_ need somebody to tell you that Giles would too.”

“You think?” said Jenny. “It’s not _his—”_

“Doesn’t need to be _his,”_ said Angel. “He cares about the fact that it’s _yours.”_

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jenny looked up at Angel with a small smile. “Think I should maybe tell everyone else the _real_ truth?”

“You don’t have to if you’re not ready,” Angel reassured her, “but I think they’d be happy to know the whole story.”

* * *

_vii. wesley_

“Wait, _seriously?”_ said Cordelia disbelievingly. “Giles _isn’t_ the dad?”

“Giles isn’t the dad,” Jenny confirmed, looking a mixture of nervous and relieved. “And it’s been—um—kinda weird to have all of you _so_ convinced that he is, but I guess it felt better than all of you knowing that I got left in the lurch.”

“I’m gonna go after that asshole and kick his _teeth_ in,” growled Fred. Gunn placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you placate me, Charles, this is _serious business—”_

“Save your energy, Fred,” said Jenny with amusement. “I’m not too mad at Birdie’s sperm donor.” Her eyes met Angel’s, and Wesley was surprised to see the vampire give her an encouraging little grin. “What matters more than that is how much energy _Rupert’s_ spent on being here for me.”

“So Giles _isn’t_ the dad, but you _do_ have feelings for him,” Cordelia confirmed.

Jenny went pink. “That’s—”

“Glad I at least had _half_ the story straight,” said Cordelia with a mischievous grin. “Do I get to play matchmaker here, or are you gonna be the one to tell Giles you want your not-a-baby-daddy as your baby’s daddy?”

“This,” said Jenny, blushing furiously. “This is why none of you got the full story.”

“No,” said Fred, crossing the room to give Jenny a hug, “it’s ‘cause you were dumb and thought we’d think less of you when we found out your baby daddy wasn’t in the picture. Which, by the way? Is the dumbest thing _ever.”_

“We _love_ you,” Wesley agreed, startled by the vehemence of his words. At Jenny’s startled expression, he clarified awkwardly, “That is—Jenny, you’re a remarkably competent and capable woman, and you’ve done so much to help make Los Angeles a safer place to live. When I—when I found out that there was a possible chance you and Giles might be patching things up, I…suppose I became overzealous in my attempts to help you get what I thought you wanted.”

“I mean…” Jenny trailed off with a nervous little grin. “I guess you guys weren’t _totally_ off base. In my ideal world, Rupert would _absolutely_ be this baby’s second parent…” Her smile faded. “But I don’t know if _he’s_ gonna get scared off by that kind of commitment, especially when there’s no…biological imperative.”

 _“Biological imperative?”_ scoffed Cordelia. “Do you _realize_ how stupid you sound? I’d be _lucky_ to get to co-parent with someone I’m totally head over heels in love with, even if Angel’s weird miracle vampire baby doesn’t have _anything_ to do with me! Who _doesn’t_ want—” She stopped. “Uh oh.”

“…Cordy?” said Angel. His eyes were very wide.

“I HAVE TO GO TO THE NAIL SALON,” said Cordelia very loudly, and booked it.

“At ten PM?” said Jenny, grinning a little. Angel was still standing there with a stunned expression on his face; Jenny stepped up, shoving him not-so-gently in the direction of a fleeing Cordelia. “Go get her, champ.”

“…!” said Angel, finally managing to process what had just happened, and _sprinted_ after Cordelia.

“So that’s _that_ worked out,” said Jenny, sitting down on the sofa again with a small sigh. “I don’t know if the whole me-and-Rupert situation is going to be resolved as easily, though.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Wesley, thinking about a moony-eyed Rupert Giles at Jenny’s baby shower. “You _did_ say he’s talking about moving up to Los Angeles, yes?”

“Yeah, but that’s—” Jenny went flaming red. “That’s not—that’s not about _me,_ it’s—” At Wesley’s growing smirk, she glared at him. “Shut up?”

Wesley held up his hands. “I didn’t say a _word,_ Jenny.”

“If you didn’t, I will,” said Fred, sitting down next to Jenny and taking her hand. “Jenny, that guy is _nuts_ over you. Didn’t you say he _cancelled his England trip_ because he wanted to make sure he was in a position to help you if things went weird with the pregnancy?”

“That wasn’t why he cancelled his trip to England!” Jenny objected. “He decided that he couldn’t afford to relocate when stuff with Buffy was so up in the air! He told me that he’d been thinking about a lot of stuff recently, a-and Buffy clearly needed someone more than ever after coming back from the dead, and he wanted to make sure that he was able to be a good—” She stopped, her eyes going very wide. “Dad,” she said softly.

“And the penny drops,” said Fred, grinning delightedly at Gunn and Wesley. “Think you’re gonna call him, mama?”

A little shakily, Jenny said, “Yeah, Fred. I think I am.”

* * *

_viii. jenny_

“Ow,” said Rupert, shaking his hand a little.

Jenny bit back a laugh. “You are such a baby,” she said. _“You_ are the _actual_ baby in this room. Seventy-plus concussions and you shake it off, but _one_ pregnant lady holds your hand a little too tightly while she’s in labor and _you’re_ scarred for life?”

 _“A little too tightly_ is entirely an understatement,” Rupert informed her. “I think you’ve sprained something.” He moved over to sit next to Jenny on the bed, gently draping an arm around her shoulders to look down at the drowsy little girl in her arms. “She looks like you.”

“She looks like a squishy tomato,” said Jenny. Birdie blinked up at her with big brown eyes in a way that seemed almost reproving. “Oh, come on, honey. Who doesn’t like squishy tomatoes? Hmm?”

 _“I_ don’t,” said Rupert.

“Wow. Horrible thing to say to this baby.”

“You’re the only one drawing the comparison,” said Rupert. “I maintain that she looks like you.” He snuck another appreciative look at Jenny, one that made more sense if directed at some leggy, sultry supermodel of a lady rather than Jenny’s gross, messy post-labor situation. “You know—you never did tell me. What are you going to name her?”

Jenny bit her lip. This was the secret she’d held the closest to her heart. “Um—”

“Fred and Gunn said—”

“Roberta,” said Jenny.

Rupert’s eyes widened and he stopped talking, his mouth still awkwardly half-open as he looked at her with this stunned, all but lovesick expression. After a long, disbelieving silence, he said softly, “Am I to believe—”

“I’m naming my baby after you,” said Jenny. Her heart was pounding. “Roberta. Birdie for short. If you’re—if you’re okay with that—”

“If I’m _okay with that,”_ Rupert repeated. “Jenny, you are easily the _most_ idiotic person I have _ever_ met if you think I would be anything _but.”_

“It’s just—” Almost overwhelmed with nerves, Jenny could barely manage a smile. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but I—having you in my life while I went through this has been…it’s been the happiest I’ve been in a long time. And having you in my life on a more permanent—a more _romantic_ basis—it would mean the _world_ to me, if that’s—”

Rupert surged forward and kissed her. Jenny laughed tearfully, reaching up with her free hand to cup his face and kiss him back.

“Oh, _hey!”_ said Cordelia very loudly as the door banged open, startling Rupert and Jenny apart. “Are we… _interrupting_ anything? I mean, obviously we’re _not,_ you two are very cute and very happy and will probably be doing _lots of that_ from now on—”

“Cordy, don’t antagonize them,” said Angel, tugged into the room after his girlfriend. “How are you feeling, Jenny?”

 _“Birdie!”_ gasped Fred tearfully, shooting into the room to kneel down by the bed and get a better look at the newest baby Calendar. “Oh my gosh, she’s so _small!_ And so _cute!_ And so—”

“We brought pie,” Gunn added, setting it down on the bedside table. “Fred and I spent all night making it once Jenny got rushed off to labor. Didn’t know _you’d_ be here,” he added in Rupert’s direction with an approving grin. “She call you?”

“Drove all night to get here in time,” said Rupert, reaching up to smooth down Jenny’s hair.

“Listen here, Rupert,” said Fred, taking the serving knife out of the pie to hold it up and give Rupert a sugar-sweet smile. “We all love Jenny. Like, _really_ love Jenny. And if you do _anything_ that makes Jenny regret letting you be a part of her life—”

“Do please stab me with a knife of your choosing if that happens,” said Rupert very seriously.

“Okay, _no_ death threats in front of my daughter,” said Jenny, bundling Birdie up into her arms. “Implicit or otherwise.”

Fred twirled the knife in her hand, but replaced it in the pie.

With a small, happy sigh, Jenny lay back in the pillows, cuddling herself into Rupert’s side as he began to rub her back. “You’re all gonna have to excuse me,” she said with a soft yawn, “because I’m just— _really—”_

“Oh, darling, don’t worry yourself over us,” Rupert murmured, and she felt a soft kiss dropped to the top of her head. “Rest up. We’ll just gossip about you while you sleep.”

Jenny laughed drowsily and closed her eyes.

* * *

When Jenny woke up again, it was about midday, which of course explained for Angel’s absence. Everyone else, however, was still comfortably settled around her bed: Fred was cutting Wesley a slice of pie, Gunn and Cordelia were playing Uno on the floor, and Rupert…had taken baby Birdie from her, and was currently walking her carefully around the room, pointing out different objects to her and gently saying their names.

Cordelia looked up from the game, giving Jenny a small, significant smile. “That guy’s a keeper,” she said. “You were out like a light, but as soon as that kid of yours started getting whimpery, Giles went and took her outside _just_ to make sure she didn’t wake you up while he calmed her down.”

Rupert turned, Birdie in his arms. “I hope that wasn’t—” he stammered, blushing. “That is—I don’t want you to feel as though I o-overstepped, or—”

Jenny stared at the little tableau: her friends around her, and the man she loved holding her sleeping baby daughter with such careful tenderness. “No, it’s okay,” she said, a lump in her throat. “It’s—god, I—hold her any time you like, Rupert. Seriously.”

 _“Oh?”_ said Fred significantly, looking up from the pie.

“Fred,” said Cordelia with amusement, “why did you think Giles was here before all of us?”

“Because he…drives faster?” said Fred with a frown.

Rupert and Jenny shared a small smile. Jenny said, “I specifically asked for Rupert to be in the room while I had Birdie. I’m sorry I didn’t ask for all of you here, but I…just didn’t want to have to choose, you know? It’s easiest when—”

“Jenny,” said Wesley with some irritation, _“please_ don’t attempt to justify your reasoning for wanting your child’s father to be the one with you while you went into labor. Why on earth would you expect us _not_ to understand?”

Jenny blinked, then blushed, grinning hugely. Rupert had a similar expression on his face.

 _“Wow,_ y’all are cute,” said Fred admiringly, stealing a bite of Wesley’s pie. “About to get started on your very own happily-ever-after, aren’t’cha?”

Rupert crossed the room again to gently hand Jenny her daughter. Birdie settled into Jenny’s arms with a soft sigh, her tiny hands gripping at the fabric of Jenny’s t-shirt. The overwhelming rush of love every time that Jenny looked at this little girl all but bowled her over. “Hey, baby,” she whispered, snuggling Birdie closer. “Hi, Roberta.”

 _“WAIT,”_ said Cordelia very loudly. _“ROBERTA?”_

Jenny and Rupert both said _“SHH!”_ at the same time, but the damage had been done: a now-awake Birdie screwed up her tiny face and let out an unhappy wail. “Oh, honey, it’s okay!” Jenny whispered, bouncing Birdie in her arms. “Shh-shh-shh, I know, Cordelia’s just _super_ loud, she can’t help it—”

“Do _not_ deflect, Jenny,” said Cordelia, all but vaulting over Fred to position herself at the foot of Jenny’s bed. _“Did you or did you not name your baby after Giles???”_

“I told you, didn’t I?” said Jenny innocently, stroking her daughter’s downy hair. “Or did I maybe not remember to do that?”

“Oh my _god—”_

Winding his arms carefully around Jenny from behind (careful to keep them above her stomach), Rupert rested his chin on her shoulder, moving one of his hands up to place it over Jenny’s hand on Birdie’s back. And then he started to sing—audibly enough that Birdie and Jenny would be able to hear it, but softly enough that it didn’t really catch the attention of the rest of the group. Birdie’s sobs began to stutter and finally stop, her breath coming in tiny little hiccups.

“There’s a girl,” Rupert whispered. “What a lovely, lovely little girl, hmm?”

Jenny squeezed her eyes tightly shut and _smiled._

* * *

_ix. giles (again)_

“Giles!” said Buffy, and hugged him fiercely, standing on tiptoe to bury her face in his shoulder. Smiling softly, Giles hugged her back, tugging her over the threshold into his apartment before letting go to get a good look at her. There were changes here and there—some time apart did that, of course—but the most important one was the warm, happy _glow_ to her smile. “It’s _so_ good to see you. Do I get to meet the baby?”

“Of _course_ you get to meet the baby,” said Giles. “Jenny’s out getting some groceries for dinner, but Birdie’s just got back from school if you’d like to say hello to her too.”

“I _always_ want to say hello to Birdie,” said Buffy very seriously. “How’s she doing?”

“She thinks that kindergarten is a horrible waste of her extremely valuable time and that she is _much_ too smart to have to be taught her letters and numbers _again,”_ said Giles. “We got a call last week that she attempted to escape out a first-floor window and fell into a leaf pile outside.”

“So just like her parents, huh?” said Buffy.

“I unfortunately cannot refute that statement.” Giles took Buffy’s shoulder bag, placing it down on the table. “How are _you_ doing?”

Buffy sat down at the kitchen table, taking the mug of tea that Giles pressed into her hand. “Pretty okay,” she said, seeming almost surprised by her answer. “I mean—Faith and I took Dawn to Disneyland, so that was cool, and we got to spend a _lot_ of time at that seaside resort. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be tan for the rest of my _life.”_

“Did you cut your hair on vacation, or—”

“Yeah, right before I left!” Buffy grinned, ruffling up her pixie cut with her free hand. “Some dumbass high schooler got gum in it. All I need is one of those circle scarves and I’m going to look like literally every therapist I ever had.”

“Well, you _are_ a therapist.”

“God, that’s still so weird. I so don’t feel qualified to do that.”

“You went back to _school,_ Buffy,” said Giles, “you earned your _degree—”_

“Blah blah blah whatever. Didn’t Jenny ever explain _impostor syndrome_ to you? Sometimes some part of you just _really_ doesn’t feel qualified to be making the decisions you end up making.” Buffy leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of her tea. “Mmm! This is _good,_ Giles, but you know it would be better if—”

“Say the words _iced tea_ in this house and you’re out the door,” said Giles. Buffy snickered and took another sip.

“Buffy!” shrieked a voice, and a dark-haired blur shot down the hall and catapulted into Buffy’s lap. Buffy, who had had the foresight to put down her tea as soon as she’d heard her name, scooped Roberta Calendar into a big bear hug _just_ as her chair toppled over. The girls tumbled to the floor in a heap, both of them giggling hysterically.

 _“Really,”_ said Giles pointedly, “could you two _possibly_ keep the volume to an acceptable level?”

“The baby sleeps through _everything,_ daddy,” said Birdie remorselessly, her arms wound around Buffy’s neck. “Buffy, can you tell mama and daddy that I _don’t_ need to go to school? They say that I do but I _don’t,_ I know _everything_ already and I’m _bored—”_

“Roberta,” said Giles somewhat tiredly, “we have _had_ this conversation.”

“I don’t count that conversation.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, daddy. You were wrong so it doesn’t count.”

Buffy snorted. _“Definitely_ your kid,” she said, securing Birdie against her hip as she stood up. “And speaking of your kid—”

“Oh!” Giles beamed. “Yes, of _course._ Here—” Leading Buffy down the hall, he opened the door to the master bedroom, letting Buffy maneuver carefully around him.

“Buffy put me down please, I’ve seen the baby a _zillion_ times before,” said Birdie, tugging on Buffy’s shirt. Obligingly, Buffy set Birdie down on the bed. “Thank you,” said Birdie politely, and proceeded to try and clamber up Giles’s arm onto his shoulders.

“Birdie, _really,”_ said Giles, scooping Birdie up into his arms. She giggled wildly, snuggling her face into his sweater.

“Rupert?” came a voice from the hallway.

 _“Mama!”_ said Birdie.

Making sure that Birdie was settled securely in his arms (which was difficult, seeing as Birdie was currently squirming to get a good look at her mother), Giles headed back out of the bedroom to greet Jenny at the door. “I’d of course help you with the groceries—” he began.

“Nah, you’re good. Precious cargo, right?” Jenny dropped a kiss on Birdie’s head and a kiss to Giles’s mouth. “How was your day?”

“Well, our daughter didn’t jump out of any windows, so that puts us one up on Wednesday,” said Giles dryly.

“Daddy,” said Birdie, “the window-jumping was _warranted.”_

Jenny set the groceries down on the kitchen table, grinning a little when she saw Buffy’s abandoned mug. “Buffy’s here?” she said. “She’s _so_ going to want to hear about the latest Bridezilla Freak-Out over at Angel Investigations. Someone sent off-white napkins instead of cream and Cordy _lost it.”_

“Oh my god, I _absolutely_ want to hear that,” said Buffy from the master bedroom. “Did Angel get caught in the crossfire?”

“Please. That man is the only one exempt from Cordy’s wrath right now.” Jenny met Buffy in the hallway, pulling her into a hug. “Hi, you! How’s that girlfriend of yours?”

Giles moved quietly past the both of them, stepping back into the master bedroom and reaching down into the cradle by the foot of the bed. John Calendar-Giles, four months old, was by some miracle still sleeping just as soundly as Birdie had expected him to be. Carefully, Giles nestled his son in his arms, sitting down with him on the bed.

Jenny poked her head in, smiling slightly when she saw the two of them together. “Hi,” she said. “Do you want to hear my fun story about work today? Angel cancelled all investigative businesses because Cordelia needed the phone to do wedding planning, and Fred and I had to spend literally the entire work day explaining to him why that wasn’t a good business model.”

“Lord, but that sounds like a nightmare,” said Giles, amused. “I’ll have to have words with Angel and Cordelia when I see them next.”

“Might not be for a little while,” said Jenny. “I’m pretty sure Birdie tried to bite Connor the last time they were in a room together.”

“Our daughter is a remarkably feral little child,” said Giles fondly.

“Yeah, you know, imagining teenage Birdie heading home at night, I honestly get a little scared for what the vampires are about to experience,” Jenny agreed, sitting down on the bed next to Giles. She tipped her head towards his, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Hi,” she said again, barely a whisper.

“Jenny, _really,”_ said Giles. “We have a _guest—”_

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account,” quipped Buffy from the doorway. “Seriously. I’m a therapist now, you know? I can give myself therapy.”

“Is that how that works?” said Jenny. “You’re really going to have to school me on twenty-first century medical practices.”

Birdie ducked around Buffy’s legs, clambering onto her mother’s lap. “Mama!” she said. “I _don’t_ want to go to school anymore, _can_ you tell Daddy—”

“God, you really are starting with that sales pitch _immediately,_ huh?” said Jenny, hugging Birdie close.

“Ma _ma—”_

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re too cool for school. We all have to go, chickadee.”

 _“You_ don’t! You get to fight vampires! And Daddy gets to stay home and watch the baby!”

“Okay, one, lately I have been doing less fighting with vampires and more avoiding fights with a vampire’s fiancée about napkins,” said Jenny. “Two, your dad needs to keep an eye on John so that he stays okay. _Three,_ Buffy goes to school _every day,_ so I think you definitely should too.”

“No _way_ ,” said Birdie, hugging Jenny around the stomach and cuddling closer. “I love you, Mama, but you are _not factually correct.”_

“That’s your girl,” said Giles.

“That’s _our_ girl,” said Jenny.

Buffy sat down on the bed next to Giles, tipping her head over to rest on his shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but when he looked over and towards her, she looked a little misty-eyed—a soft, almost unconscious smile on her face as she watched Birdie snuggle into her mother. “Giles?” she said.

“Mm?” said Giles.

“I’m glad,” said Buffy. “That things are good with you. _All_ of you.”

Birdie looked up, meeting Buffy’s eyes, and smiled too—an easy, joyful Jenny Calendar smile that went straight to Giles’s heart.


End file.
